


Did I Make You Proud, Mother?

by EpicKiya722



Category: Kill Bill (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Post-Canon, Revenge, Short, Unofficial Sequel, Years Later, short but not sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpicKiya722/pseuds/EpicKiya722
Summary: I actually wrote this years ago... okay, just two years ago and I just recently finished it because I watched the first Kill Bill movie and thought, "Don't I...? Kiya, finish that shit!" Hey, I was taking a break from my other work I'm working on.This probably isn't that good, but I wanted to keep it short and to the point kinda. Hope you like it though!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Did I Make You Proud, Mother?

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this years ago... okay, just two years ago and I just recently finished it because I watched the first Kill Bill movie and thought, "Don't I...? Kiya, finish that shit!" Hey, I was taking a break from my other work I'm working on.
> 
> This probably isn't that good, but I wanted to keep it short and to the point kinda. Hope you like it though!

Anguish.

For years since seeing the blank eyes of her mother, that’s all she felt. Anguish.

It all happened too quick, too fast for her. Vaguely, she remembered laughing with her friends, learning numbers and colors. Playing and running without worry. And with a switch, blood. Blood coating the floor and the hole in her mother’s chest. She recalls hearing the knife cutting through the air and plunging into her mother. The thud of her body hitting the floor and the crunching of cereal as her killer turned and looked at her. She had offered, offered her to intake her revenge if she still felt sour about it.

She was beyond sour.

She was furious.

Since four, an age too young to see death, she always wondered why her mother was taken from her. And to find out the truth… she couldn’t accept it.

The reason her mother was brutally killed was still alive.

The killer’s daughter was still alive.

Alive.

And how she had a deep, deep distaste for that.

Her mother died for nothing! She grew up without a woman’s guidance, her father trying the best he could while processing the death of his wife. She and her family went through hardened stages of woe while she and that killer lived on without so much of a meaningful sorry.

She lost her mother and her childhood the moment the killer stepped through the door. She didn’t watch cartoons. She didn’t go outside and splash in puddles. She didn’t squeal at cute animals and beg her papa for one.

She had lost that.

But the killer’s daughter didn’t.

She got to have a mother. She got to have a woman tell her all she needed to know without feeling uncomfortable. She got to smile and joke with her mother while hers laid in a casket six feet underground. She got to talk to her mother about love problems and prom and graduation. She had endure the emptiness of seeing a blank spot beside her while looking in the mirror to decide what she wanted to wear.

The killer’s daughter got to live while she died along with the knife hitting her mother’s chest.

A knife that didn’t have to been thrown if the killer found about her daughter first instead of acting like an irrational misfit with a grudge. If the killer saw that her baby girl was well and breathing she could have let her and her family alone.

But no.

She was blinded by the proclaimed lost and revenge. She had to enact on her goal to take the lives that done her dirty.

And now she got a good feel of that.

The killer was now the killed, laying in her own blood and staring up at her with wide eyes filled with impression and alarm.

“I knew you… would…”

_‘… kill me…’_

Those words brought her great satisfaction. It was no doubt the killer would have said that before the light left her eyes. She didn't have to say them though. The stillness of her body on the kitchen floor was enough for. Poetic even, mimicking the scene from all those years ago. She smirked, hearing the scream from the doorway.

"HOW COULD... NO... MA!"

The killer's daughter picked up the nearest weapon, blindly swinging towards her. She expected as much, given that she just witnessed the murder of her own mother. Of course, she wasn't going to give her the opportunity to kill her. Only she had the right to get her revenge. So within a single minute, the killer's daughter was laying right beside her mother, a cut deep within her chest.

She smiled, not minding the blood that coated her brown skin. Her life changed because of them and not for the better. Had Bill been alive, he would have died at her hands as well.

No matter though.

She easily could turn on her heel and walk away. And she did so, sword loosely held in her hand and a fire starting ablaze behind her. Her smile still plastered on her face. Her mother was avenged. Rightfully so. She finished something her mother started years ago.

She got rid of the Black Mamba.

"Did I make you proud, mother?", she asked into the nothingness around her, slamming and locking the car door behind her. She heard a faint _yes_ in her ear and for the first time since she was just four years old, she cried. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha, yeah I killed both B.B.'s. Thought, "Happy ending here? Yeah, no."


End file.
